User blog comment:Llamao/The Strangers/@comment-4094509-20111122225914

Rooto the rat was not in his old tent in Mossflower snoring away the day as usual. He had strapped his belongings, including his tent to his sturdy back and was wandering around at the moment. Enjoying his own little adventure. His beloved pet beetle Fling was safe in a walnut shell around his neck and his trusty spear was held tight in one paw.

He paced the coast of the sea idly, prodding at the sand with his spear. The rat's half closed eyes spotted the ship and the lone weasel guarding it in the distance. He padded over casually. The rat had no interest in the weasel. Only the ship.